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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716996">all my my broken pieces (lead back to you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/8inthemourning/pseuds/8inthemourning'>8inthemourning</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>detroit become human</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:48:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,514</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23716996</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/8inthemourning/pseuds/8inthemourning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>connor has bulimia and elijah tries to help him...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Connor/Elijah Kamski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>all my my broken pieces (lead back to you)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(this isn't meant to romanticize the illness at all, i struggle with this illness so if you get triggered by this please i urge you not to read!) also this story is a wip so i'm not really sure what direction it'll go in, there might be MENTIONS of past sexual abuse but i won't delve deep into details of that. i just wanted to post it so i have some motivation to continue if people enjoy it :) anyway, thanks for reading! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor sits on his bathroom floor with tears streaking his reddened cheeks for the hundredth time. Nothing is ever good enough, he thinks to himself as he eyes the scale across the room. Nothing.</p><p>If only he could understand why he needs to do these things. It tears him up inside but he forces himself up to his feet, steadying himself along the bathtub’s edge. He feels weak and sick, like he’s being tossed around on the deck of a ship that’s bound for wreckage.</p><p>He reaches for the handle of the toilet and pushes it down, then sniffles as he goes to sit on the lid. His legs are shaking violently and he feels disgusting for what he’s done. Shame replaces the emptiness in the pit of his stomach. Shame. Guilt. He feels like a glorified corpse.</p><p>He looks at the scale once more, this time his eyes linger on it. He has to. What if he’s heavier? Connor knew he would be after a binge like the one he just had. It was like something out of a horror film when he stood up, his gaunt figure making it’s way over to the scale slowly. Connor felt too light on his feet, like he’d never feel solid ground again.</p><p>Until he planted himself on the scale, it felt like the world was realigning itself once more. He watched the digital numbers load beneath him and when the final number appeared, he felt his throat tighten with fear. He was up by 4 pounds. </p><p>“Connor!” Hank called from the living room. He was always worried about his son. Especially when he was in the bathroom for longer than usual. He gets up from his chair and makes his way down the hall where Connor is scrambling to get his act together inside the bathroom. He feels weak and cold, and his vision is starting to blur at the edges. Hank stands by the door and knocks on it.</p><p>“O-One second, I’m almost done!” Connor calls out. He reaches for his hoodie and puts it back on in hopes that Hank wouldn’t notice how much weight he’s lost. He needed to keep it a secret for as long as he possibly could this time. He didn’t need to go back to the hospital. For the third time.</p><p>Connor cracks the door open to meet Hank’s face and he avoids his father’s eyes at all costs. </p><p>“I was just going to brush my teeth,” he says. Which isn’t a total lie. He still needed to brush. But Hank bought it, surprisingly.</p><p>“Okay… Just letting you know dinner is ready.” Oh, great. Connor thought to himself, just another thing he had to purge. Unless he could get Sumo to help him out under the table. </p><p>-</p><p>Connor sat at the dinner table visibly shaking. His body could barely regulate his temperature anymore. Hank placed his plate in front of his son and let his eyes linger. He knew something wasn’t right… After going through it twice before with Connor, he knew the warning signs.</p><p>“Are you okay son?” He already knows his son will lie, and it breaks his heart. But he waits for a response anyway.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m fine.” He says, picking up his fork. His wrist is unsteady, and it’s also burning underneath the fabric of his sweater due to the fresh cuts from the night before. He doesn’t know why he’s like this… What’s wrong with me? Connor thinks as he pierces a carrot on his plate with his fork. He’s just trying to understand himself lately. Nothing made sense.</p><p>Hank sits down across from him and begins to eat as if everything is okay. He knows his son is struggling, but he knew no matter how hard he pressed, Connor wouldn’t admit to it. Plus, the doctors last time said pushing him will just make it worse. It’s been hard for Hank to accept this, but he tries his best. </p><p>Connor reluctantly puts a carrot in his mouth and chews, hating every bite. Sumo sits in the living room chewing on one of his bones. So that looks like the Sumo method isn’t going to work this time for him. Which meant he had to purge again. Probably outside in the backyard this time. Fuck.</p><p>“I think… I don’t know, Connor.” Hank begins to say. Connor’s heart drops. He already knows what his father is about to say. “You sure you’re okay?”</p><p>Connor wants to tell him the truth. He wants to tell him that he cannot stand the way he looks, that his body disgusts him. That every day is another day that he’s trapped in a place in which there is no escape. He wants to say it, he does. But the words are lost in his mind somewhere.</p><p>“Dad,” Connor forces a smile. “I’m fine. Don’t worry, okay?” He was starting to build some rapport with Hank anyway since his last hospitalization two years ago. He relapsed a few times after he got out but managed to hide it well. This time… He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure he could hide it. Maybe he’d get lucky and it would kill him.</p><p>Hank sighs and gives a smile back. “That’s good to hear, son. I really like to hear that you’re good. I know how the summer gets for you.”</p><p>It was true, summer was the worst period of time for his mental health. So was spring… And every other season, but summer was dreadful. He always felt so grotesque in short sleeves and refused to wear shorts, for obvious reasons. He also had trauma from his childhood he couldn’t quite remember all that well now… All he knew was that he was beaten real bad as a child. So bad that it caused his biological parents to lose custody of him when he was fifteen. </p><p>That’s when Hank took him in. And ten years later he’s still there for him. Connor was grateful everyday for him, but he still felt like the worst son in the world. Mostly because he couldn’t get better. All Hank wanted was a healthy son, and Connor felt guilty that he couldn’t be that for him.</p><p>-</p><p>When dinner was over Connor did the dishes and then waited for Hank to go to bed so he could go do what he intended to do from the very beginning. Carefully, he opened the glass sliding door, wincing when it squeaked just a little bit. He paused for a moment to see if anybody heard, and when the coast was clear he snuck out and made his way behind the bushes in his backyard.</p><p>He was a little chilly despite the summer heat and as he wretched he felt his brain go fuzzy. It was like nothing else he’d ever experienced. His heart was thudding so loud he could hear it in his ears, and then all of the sudden his vision blurred. </p><p>“Oh god,” he whispered, falling onto his knees when his legs gave out from under him. He gripped the grass as if it would keep him on this planet for a little bit longer. But it didn’t help him. In the distance he could hear Sumo barking, but only for a few moments before he passed out. </p><p>Hank was almost asleep when he heard Sumo. He grunted, annoyed that it had happened again. Probably some raccoon in the backyard that Sumo wanted to take on. Even though he was a big baby. </p><p>“Sumo, you can’t just bark at every god damn living thing on the planet-” Hank said as he walked out of his room. He flicked the light on to the kitchen and saw that Connor was seizing in the backyard. </p><p>“Connor!” He exclaimed, moving quickly to open the door. He didn’t even bother closing it as he ran to Connor’s side. “Son, please, no no no-” He got Connor onto his side and scrambled for his cell phone inside his pocket. He always had 911 on speed dial now since Connor fainted two years ago, earning him another stay at St. Paul’s hospital.</p><p>“Hello, what’s your emergan-” </p><p>“M-My son, Connor, please he’s having a seizure! I need help!” </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>“Connor?” The light was bright against his tired eyes, and he blinked a few times to adjust. “Oh, thank god. You’re awake.”</p><p>The room had a familiar smell, of cleaning agent and freshly washed sheets… Fuck. How did he manage to do this again?</p><p>“Dad… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry-” Connor tried to speak, his throat rasping from the rawness. </p><p>He was cut off by a hug shortly after, and he sighed as he leaned into Hank’s arms. At least Hank supported him. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even concerned with anything else, just Connor. </p><p>-</p><p>So, Connor had managed to get himself hospitalized again.</p><p>“Six feet, 101 pounds.” The nurse says softly. She doesn’t understand how he’s still alive. If it weren’t for Sumo, he might not have been. </p><p>101 pounds. We could easily get to 99.</p><p>Connor’s eating disordered mind just won’t give up. </p>
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